Comfort
by memory-flower
Summary: "It's okay to be afraid. Just know you don't have to be afraid alone." Sirius helps Harry to realise he doesn't have to isolate himself; help is always there. Takes place during OOTP Christmas holidays. Will take place of my other fic. NOT SLASH!
1. Comfort

Number 12 Grimmauld Place was dark and quiet. Its occupants had been asleep for several hours already. The Order of the Phoenix had been talking and debating and discussing well past midnight, but even their meeting had now been closed and most members had left. Not even Mrs. Black dared to disturb the peaceful silence. It was so quiet – you could hear a pin drop.

That is, until the screaming started.

It didn't last very long, only a couple seconds of pained yelling. It wouldn't even have been very loud, had the house not been so very calm. But, as such, it seemed very loud indeed.

Harry Potter clutched his head, his searing, burning forehead, and couldn't help but yell out once more from the blinding pain. This was the worst he had felt it yet...well, besides Voldemort actually being beside him, actually reaching his pale and foreboding hand and pressing his fingertip to Harry's cheek, like at the graveyard –

_No._ He wouldn't think about that. That's what was causing him to have visions of the nightmarish things Voldemort was doing in the first place! It had happened so frequently since... Every time the same... He couldn't even remember what it was this time...

Harry pressed his face into his pillow and curled up in a ball, trying to stop himself from throwing up; the pain was making him sick...again.

But he didn't dare ask for comfort from anyone, lest he put them in danger... The image of the snake and Mr. Weasley came into his head, fresh from only the end of term, and he couldn't fathom even seeing anyone, anything, hurt like that, scared like that, from anything Voldemort had done...from anything Harry had done. Especially around the same time Mr. Weasley had nearly been killed.

Not that there was anyone to ask for help. Hermione was skiing with her parents and would not arrive for another two days. Ron and the Weasleys had gone to stay with Mr. Weasley at the Burrow. Harry, unwilling to be a danger to anyone, decided to stay behind with Sirius and the other Order members who were coming and going from Grimmauld Place regularly. He knew everyone was gone now, save for Lupin, who was staying the night, and Sirius, who lived (for lack of a better word) at the house.

So he clenched his teeth and bit back yet another cry. _Fight back, Potter!_ he told himself. _Stop thinking about it! Don't let him win!_

However, letting Voldemort win seemed like the only thing Harry's stomach and brain were capable of at the moment, for, with an almighty lurch of his stomach, Harry leaned over the bed and vomited quite spectacularly. This did not make him feel any better; quite the contrary, he felt much worse. Sitting up, Harry took a deep breath and covered his forehead and eyes with his hand, leaning back against the backboard of the four-poster bed. He felt the overwhelming pain and sickness build again, and knew there was another vision on the way. He pushed against the sensation and tried to force it back.

Harry's strength against the vision didn't last long; soon, he was much too weak to defend himself and felt himself fall away into his nightmares.

_The snake, the snake...slithering around on the floor...Voldemort's chair positioned by the fire of an unknown building...not the Riddle House...a manor...speaking, now, hissing...laughing with cruel mirth..."Crucio!"...shaking, hurting, convulsing...jaw and head and eyes and body...everything aching...pain...pain... _pain!

"Harry!" someone shaking him, waking him_...who...?_

"Harry, wake up! Come on, you're alright..." _Can't see, can't see... Sirius, here? _Sirius, worried.

Harry gasped a little and opened his eyes to the blurry face of Sirius Black. _No, no... danger... embarrassing. _Harry, however horrible he felt, was humiliated to find someone watching him in his weakest moment, however much they might care about him.

_Sickness. Stomach turning. _

Harry reached up to press his hand to his mouth. No, too late... He turned on his side and emptied his stomach over the side of the bed, like before. Sirius grabbed him before he could fall. God, he felt terrible. His head, his stomach..._his head._

Sirius emptied the waste bin, filled with tissues and sweet wrappers, on the floor and quickly handed it to Harry, who clutched at it and tossed his cookies again.

When he was done, he leant back and closed his eyes, no longer caring about who was there. It was _Sirius_ after all; Sirius would help him, wouldn't judge him...he hoped.

Slowly, the ill-set feeling in his stomach and the blinding, burning pain in his head faded. Slowly, he felt physically like himself again. However, the nauseating worry, the sense of putting someone in danger, the sense of Voldemort controlling everything from his Death Eaters to Harry's mind did not recede. He sat up quickly and almost fell back down, overtaken by a dizzy spell.

"Easy there, Harry..." Sirius was looking at him with concern, very pale and very anxious.

"Sirius..." Harry's voice was hoarse, like he was recovering from a bad cold. "I can't..."

"Can't what, Harry?" Sirius' worry was mounting. "What's wrong, Harry? You can tell me."

"It's dangerous to be near me, Sirius!" Harry finally burst after a moment's hesitation. "Voldemort is _in my head_." It felt strangely more real when he said it out loud. So much that he couldn't help the tears that sprang to his eyes. He wiped them away impatiently.

Sirius was taken aback.

"No," he said eventually, and Harry could tell he had more to say. "No, Harry, the Order...we've spoken with Dumbledore...your visions or whatever, they're not..._you are not possessed by Voldemort_," he said firmly.

It was Harry's turn to be taken aback.

Sirius continued.

"It's just...you can see him. He can see you. It's just a connection, not a _possession_," Harry clung to Sirius' words, like he was falling and this would stop him. Like a child clung to a parent. "You can't help it... You're _not_ a bad person!"

Harry and Sirius stared at each other for a few moments, unspoken understanding resting between them. Finally, Sirius broke the tension by pulling Harry into a strong embrace.

Harry couldn't help the tears now: they built in his eyes and fell in tiny waterfalls down his face. He didn't bother wiping them away anymore; new ones would just replace the ones erased.

Sirius pulled away, hands on Harry's shoulders, still bothered and nervous. Harry didn't feel Voldemort's foul demeanour or his explosive anger or vindictive happiness anymore. _Maybe I'm not the dangerous one..._ Harry thought. _Maybe it's alright to have a bit of comfort._

Harry looked at the man that had known just as much suffering as he had, looked into the eyes that still had the haunting tint of Azkaban's fearful atmosphere, looked at the face that held such concern, such obvious affection, like a father and a friend at the same time.

"It's okay to be afraid," Sirius said. "Just know you don't have to be afraid by yourself."

Harry slept through the rest of the night after Sirius left. And he was okay.

**A/N: Hey all! _Comfort_ came about when I was trying to wrack my brain to fix the plot of my other story _The Dark Lord Really Does Know All (_which was and is going nowhere)_._ This came about, and it's more like what that one was supposed to be. I will not be continuing the other one. This one is pretty much a one-shot, but I'm thinking of adding another 2 or so chapters. Let me know what you think - PLEASE Read and Review! I will love you forever if you do! Hey that rhymed... :P Anyhoo, if you have any ideas for me, I would love to hear them. Thanks! :)**


	2. Care

Sirius Black climbed the stairs in a solitary mood. The Order meeting had taken them nowhere; they had not found anything new about Voldemort's plans, nor had they gotten further on protection of the Weapon. The one thing they had actually talked in depth about was the attack on Arthur Weasley, the father of Harry's friend Ron, Sirius knew. More so, they spoke of how in hell Harry had witnessed it.

Though certain people debated otherwise, the Order came to the conclusion that Harry was _not_ possessed. Rather, he shared a sort of mind connection with Voldemort, and, after speaking thoroughly with Dumbledore during his brief visit, they had determined that Harry was most certainly not a threat to anyone, besides himself.

_Threat to himself..._ Sirius thought, mentally scoffing. _Why any kid should have to go through what Harry goes through..._ _except perhaps Lucius' boy... _He sort of smirked and frowned to himself at the same time as he shut the hall lights off and opened the door to his bedroom.

The house was much quieter than usual, and Sirius found that he quite missed the hustle and bustle; with the combination of Order members and the Weasleys, one could usually find _someone_ awake. Tonight, there were only 3 people sleeping in Grimmauld Place's solemn confines: Remus, Harry, and himself.

After putting on his pyjamas and climbing into bed, Sirius fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. The day had been rather long and tiring, and, suddenly thankful for the quiet, he slept deeply.

That is, until the screaming started.

Sirius woke gradually to the muffled yells. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, not registering immediate danger. _Maybe there was a noise and my mother woke up again... _Sirius grimaced as he pulled back the oh-so-warm bed covers and stepped into his overly fluffy slippers.

Sirius stumbled down the stairs with his wand lit, too lazy to turn on the lamps, thinking he might wake someone with their brightness. However, once he discovered that his mother was shut and asleep behind her mouldy old curtains, he realised that thinking to not wake at least one person up had been unnecessary.

Someone was awake.

And not only were they awake, but something was definitely wrong. Feeling a sense of foreboding, Sirius took the stairs three at a time on the way up. The screaming had mostly stopped, or at least quietened so he couldn't hear it.

_It has to be either Harry or Moony..._ Sirius concluded, naming the only two people asleep in the house at the moment and half-ran on his toes down the corridor. He thought it might be Remus, as the full moon was approaching in less than a week... but once he passed Harry's door, he knew who it was.

Sirius quietly opened the door to find Harry slumped awkwardly in a kind of half sitting up position against the backboard of his bed.

Harry's uncomfortable position was the least of Sirius' worries, however.

He was clutching his head, digging his nails into the skin, rocking jerkily, obviously trying to combat pain in his mostly unconscious state. His scar, just visible between Harry's fingers, was red and irritated. Very suddenly, Harry gasped and groaned, almost falling off the bed as he shuddered. He whimpered slightly and gave a couple involuntary convulsions.

"_No_..." Harry whispered, unaware of his surroundings, evidently.

"Harry!" Sirius grabbed Harry`s shoulders, preventing him from rolling off the bed, and gave him a little shake. "Harry, wake up! Come on, you`re alright..." Sirius worked hard to prevent his terror from showing. After all, he still had the "awesome godfather" image to portray. He felt he needed to be strong right now; Harry would be embarrassed if he thought Sirius was too worried, or he might mistake worry for judgement... You just never knew exactly how Harry felt, sometimes.

Harry opened his eyes and blearily focused on Sirius' face. Suddenly, he pressed his hand to his mouth. Sirius, realising what was about to happen, moved hastily to the side as Harry vomited on the floor (Sirius noted there already happened to be some there).

Harry groaned again. Emptying the tissue-and-sweet-wrapper-filled rubbish bin on the floor, Sirius pressed it into Harry`s hands just in time for another upheaval of dinner from Harry. He gripped Harry`s shoulder as his godson heaved.

_This is so unfair... And now he's probably humiliated that I'm here,_ Sirius reflected. No matter how much Sirius wanted to give comfort to and protect his godson, he knew how unwilling Harry was to accept help, how Harry had the notion that he was alone...and Sirius knew he was still afraid.

Harry sighed and leant back, massaging his head with his palm. Sirius let go of his shoulder and moved the waste bin, performing a quick cleaning spell on the floor and vanishing the contents of the bin.

He furrowed his brow in extreme concern, letting Harry get back to normal. Obviously, this was a Voldemort thing...a vision, or a nightmare, one of those two... _Or both,_ Sirius considered disapprovingly.

Possibly trying to regain some dignity, Harry sat up, apparently too fast as he nearly fell off the bed, combated by a dizzy spell. Sirius couldn`t help but smile slightly; Harry was always trying to be brave.

But the worry and anxiety returned abruptly.

"Easy there, Harry..." Sirius himself felt dizzy and light-headed; a result of his apprehension and fear for his godson, no doubt.

"Sirius..." Sirius sighed mentally in relief as Harry began to speak. However, he was alarmed at how hoarse and strained Harry`s voice was. ``I can`t...`` His words trailed off, or perhaps just stopped; it was sort of hard to tell at the moment.

"Can`t what, Harry?" The worry and fear were almost unbearable, and Sirius attempted to stay calm and keep it under check. He was clearly failing on some level. "What's wrong, Harry? You can tell me."

Harry appeared to be struggling with how to phrase something. His brow was deeply creased and his mouth was set in a scowl.

"It's dangerous to be near me, Sirius!" Harry scolded after a short delay. Strange how Harry seemed both more innocent and younger, and older and more adult-like, all at once sometimes... "Voldemort is _in my head." _Tears built noiselessly in his eyes. Harry's hand brushed them away without a second thought.

Sirius was thoroughly taken aback. Obviously, the Order hadn't been the only ones to consider this. Sirius hurriedly combated his surprise and began to speak firmly, but with compassion.

"No," he stated. He chose his words carefully, but they came out jumbled anyhow. He had never been very good with language... "No, Harry, the Order...we've spoken with Dumbledore...your visions or whatever, they're not..._you are not possessed by Voldemort_." The last words came out determinedly, almost angrily. Sirius reeled his emotions in warily.

Harry recoiled, now taken aback, like Sirius had been, by the rush of emotion. Sirius took this as his queue to continue, and he did so in a much more calm and reasonable manner.

"It's just...you can see him. He can see you. It's just a connection, not a _possession_." Harry seemed to cling to the words, eyes searching for solace in Sirius. Sirius felt his own strong stance melt slightly with...sympathy? pity? He couldn't quite place his feelings at that moment. He compelled himself onward. "You can't help it... You're not a bad person!" he finished passionately, using hand gestures and everything. Sometimes, Sirius got a bit carried away with his intense feelings...

They stared at each other for a long while, comprehension and resolute perception now connecting them on a single thread of connected thoughts.

Sirius couldn't help himself any longer: he pulled Harry into a big bear hug and pretended not to notice the tears that cascaded down Harry's cheeks. Still feeling the need to be strong for Harry, Sirius did not allow his own tears to fall.

Analysing Harry for his own peace of mind, Sirius pulled gently away, his hands on Harry's shoulders. Harry was definitely relaxing now, taken steadying breaths, and being calm and more at rest with his mind now, for sure.

Sirius gazed at the face that reminded him so much James, and Lily, too. He felt the sadness and the hurt and the anger at that whole situation, and realised Harry probably felt it just as much, if not more. For a moment, Sirius felt the open emptiness and absolute grief and fear he had discovered in himself in Azkaban, felt it just for a second, but that was enough. He felt a rush of gratitude and affection towards Harry, the boy he now looked upon as a mixture of a son and a friend. Why did Harry feel so much the need to be alone? To isolate himself? Sirius wanted to help, to give him guidance, if only he would accept...

He addressed Harry lightly once more:

"It's okay to be afraid," Sirius said. "Just know you don't have to be afraid by yourself." _I'm here, I'm always here. Let me help you, be the father that you missed out on... _

Sirius stood up and smiled at Harry who smiled back. Sirius gripped his shoulder and nodded. Harry tucked himself back in the blankets and Sirius walked silently back out the door to the bedroom.

Remus was waiting outside.

"Is he...okay?" Remus said, dripping with the same kind of restrained concern Sirius had just shown. Sirius nodded. But Remus wasn't done. "Are you okay, then?" He gave a knowing look.

"Yeah," Sirius spoke the truth. "We both are. It's fine."

He knew what that unknown feeling was now: it was love.

Sirius, too, slept soundly the rest of the night.

**A/N: So I got the second chapter up sooner than I expected! Yay me! Haha... This one's in Sirius' perspective, to show both sides of the story. Anyhoo, like I said, this will be a short story. Probably around 3-5 chapters, but, like I said, I may add more (you never know what the imagination will give ya). Thanks for the reviews so far! Please read and review this chapter as well; it's all very much appreciated. I will read and answer every review I get, unless it's anonymous. I'll be back soon, within the next week. :)**


	3. Conciousness

Remus Lupin was not having a particularly good evening. He was in total distress for the entire Order meeting, unable to focus on any of the issues at hand except for Mr. Weasley's attack. He struggled to not fall asleep for the last part of the meeting; however, when he finally did get the freedom to traipse up to bed, he found he couldn't even close his eyes. He was very uncomfortable. Possibly because of the full moon approaching... But Remus just couldn't help but think of Harry's situation.

_What would James do?_ He wondered. _What would Lily do?_

Well, for starters, they would talk to Harry about it, no doubt... but it was so hard to know what exactly to _do_ about it, about Harry's discomfort, about his fear, about his pain, and everything he tried so hard to hide. Remus couldn't very well go in there and hug and comfort Harry like a parent would...maybe Sirius might, be Remus couldn't. At that moment, Remus regretted being Harry's teacher before his friend or a father figure.

So the only question he could ask himself was "what would Remus do?" And that wasn't really helpful at all.

Remus took a long drink from the goblet of water he had brought up, and sat it back on his bedside table. It was going to be a long night, no matter if it was 3:00 in the morning already. He climbed into bed, dreading the non-sleep of the entire night.

He had long ago recognized that he was loud in his sleep, not only due to his wolf-like tendencies and terrible discomfort around the full moon time, but also because of his over-troubled mind; as such, he had taken to casting silencing charms around his room during the night and around full moons.

Eventually, though, his thoughts carried him into a doze of sorts, and Remus' sleep was full of the unfinished thoughts of his waking moments and the dread of turning into a wolf in just over week's time. However, he was completely exhausted, and didn't awaken.

So he didn't hear the screaming.

Remus roused about ten minutes after the screaming had begun, startled awake by a devastating image of himself as a wild wolf eating his family (which wouldn't actually happen, thanks to the Wolfsbane potion, but it was frightening nonetheless).

He rubbed his eyes and, parched, drank deeply from the water goblet on the table once more. Placing the now empty goblet down once more, Remus was about to get his wand from the bedside table to restore his water supply, when he noticed the wand wasn't there. A little alarmed, he swept over his room quickly and carefully, searching for his wand. At last, he decided he must have left it in the kitchen, and strode softly from the room to retrieve it.

And he knew something was wrong as soon as he stepped from his open door.

He could hear Sirius practically running down the dark corridor, his steps echoing loudly. Sirius did not know that Remus had cast silencing spells on his bedroom, so Remus was sure the noise was call for something serious. Questions burst into existence in his head; he listened carefully for answers.

A low groan escaped the silence. It sounded like both the cause of annoyance and the cause of a lot of pain.

_It must be Harry,_ Remus thought, his stomach twisting uncomfortably with new worry, recalling his thoughts from before bed. _Oh God, please let no one be hurt, whatever he's seen..._

Remus knew in his heart of hearts that Harry was not possessed whatsoever. They (that is, the Order) would know if he was. They wouldn't have had conversation after conversation, with everyone from Mundungus Fletcher to Albus Dumbledore himself, to confirm their thoughts on the connection. These conversations, exempting the one with Dumbledore, were completely unnecessary, as Remus was constantly pointing out. First of all, the only person who would have an inkling of what was going on, besides Harry, was Dumbledore, and they, therefore, must trust him. Secondly, hadn't anyone noticed that no one within the actual vicinity of Harry was being injured, or otherwise harmed in any way?

It hurt Remus to know that the connection was hurting Harry, but if it was hurting Harry so much, if he actually knew what was going on, how in the world could he be possessed? Remus had heard stories of possessions, particularly the story of Ginny Weasley's possession, and this was nothing like that. This was a mind connection, as Harry could see into Voldemort's mind as equally as Voldemort could see into Harry's. And, at least in Harry's case, the sight wasn't by choice.

_Teacher or not, I'm going to go help,_ Remus decided firmly. He cared about Harry as much as Sirius did, and felt his words were as important as his best mate's. Sirius was the godfather here, but Remus might as well have been, too.

_It's okay to open up, Moony. You're not doing anything wrong at all. In fact, it's quite alright to be involved here..._

He gingerly tiptoed down the hall, careful not to be the cause for any more unease. As he approached Harry's room, he heard Sirius call Harry's name with profound panic laced into his voice. Remus stopped and listened, second guessing his continuation.

He heard whimpers and soft cries, the sound of vomit making contact with wood, and, _finally_, a sigh and a deep breath.

He opened the door a tiny crack and peeked in. Sirius was seated on Harry's bed, Harry was sitting up. Sirius had his hand on Harry's shoulder; they were not looking at each other. And Remus saw the apprehension in Harry's eyes, the fading pain, and the humiliation. His heart sank. Remus couldn't bring himself to reveal his presence; it may just cause Harry to close his feelings up again. He retreated back behind the door, a little more into the shadows of the hallway.

_Why Harry?_ He pondered wearily. _Why not someone else? Why anyone at all?_

He considered the weapon, the stupid, blasted, unknown weapon.

_It's Voldemort,_ he reminded himself. _It's always Voldemort._ And he stood there thinking a long time.

Remus broke out of his reverie to hear gentle crying, and peered through the doorway's crack to see Sirius embracing Harry, both with tears falling like tiny waterfalls down their faces and small smiles on their lips. Remus smiled, too, glad to see that Harry's discomfort had ended.

"It's okay to be afraid," Sirius spoke now. "Just know you don't have to be afraid by yourself."

Remus became aware of the lump in his throat and his own tears threatening to billow over. He saw Sirius stand up and hurriedly reigned in his emotions. Sirius opened the door and seemed unsurprised to find him standing there. Remus considered his friend for a moment, and addressed him warily.

"Is he...okay?" Remus asked, knowing he wasn't doing a good job of seeming calm. He saw stress, he saw overtiredness, and he saw bottomless concern and affection on his best friend's face. Sirius nodded. Remus examined him for a moment.

"Are you okay?" he continued, raising his eyebrows a fraction. _Padfoot, my best friend, my best, living friend...please be okay..._

"Yeah," Sirius said, and Remus was quite surprised, and relieved, to hear the peace in his speech. "We both are. It's fine." Remus couldn't say how very glad he was for that.

Patting his friend's shoulder, Remus nodded with a small and satisfied smile, before they both parted, heading back to their own rooms.

_It's okay,_ Remus sang in his mind. _It's okay._

And, for once, he slept well.

**A/N: Ah I'm just throwing out the updates, aren't I? I really like this story, and hopefully you as readers do, too. I'm thinking there'll be one more chapter, which will have a bit more excitement in it, generally. Please read and review; it's sooo amazing to discover your inbox with even one review sitting inside. Thanks, and please continue to review, whether anonymous or signed :)**


	4. Consideration

The winter morning dawned, bright and cool, and the ground across Great Britain was gleaming with the sparkle of newly fallen snow. Early, though it was, many people, wizards and Muggles alike, had already started the day, many with a fresh cup of coffee or tea and the morning paper. Albus Dumbledore was no different.

Miles and miles from Number 12 Grimmauld Place, the Hogwarts Headmaster's office was littered with various intricate and interesting objects: among these, his many silver instruments sat, glittering and giving the impression of having been recently polished. His precious Pensieve and one particular silver instrument were laid out on the desk in front of him, along with a cup of tea (constantly hot, thanks to a warming spell) and the most recent _Daily Prophet_ (which he read, despite his current distaste of the Ministry).

Dumbledore sipped his tea through pursed lips and examined the silver instrument closely, muttering faintly under his breath.

He had, in fact, received a letter this morning, along with his usual _Daily Prophet, _from Mr. Black and Mr. Lupin, no doubt, though Dumbledore had not opened it yet; he already knew what it would say, thanks to the very useful silver instrument in front of him.

This contraption told him, with the right words, of course, the exact status of one Harry Potter. And Harry Potter had not had an especially good night.

Albus sighed and considered his thoughts. _Will it be safer, better, if I continue to pursue my apparent neglect of him, to never look him in the eye? Or to tell him, teach him to fight his battles? To burden him unnecessarily would only cause him pain..._

Albus peered into the silver-blue mist of the Pensieve, whereupon the figure of a very pale and anxious-looking Harry Potter stood in front of the Headmaster's desk. That night, the night of Mr. Weasley's attack had been thoroughly eye-opening... Who knew the boy had progressed so far into Voldemort's mind? And now Voldemort would know, for sure, if not before of the connection he and Harry shared... And this meant he, Albus Dumbledore, must do something, _something_ to close his pupil's thoughts to the darker forces that penetrated them so ferociously... to slip into Harry's sleep, and turn his mere fears into truths, into visions? It caused both his brain and his heart to ache uncomfortably.

_He will use him, no doubt, to spy, _Albus deliberated, downing half his tea without noticing the burning sensation of his , Lord Voldemort was watching, and waiting, it seemed... Why? To spy on the Order of the Phoenix? To spy on Albus Dumbledore himself? To...attract Harry's attention somewhere? These were all logical considerations for Harry's 'nightmares'. Whatever their reason or purpose, Albus had spent far too long hiding from the inevitable: Lord Voldemort was not going away by Dumbledore simply ignoring his presence. Harry was hurting, he was vulnerable, and he could be used and abused by the simple use of a projected nightmare into his dreams...

But how to protect him, when Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix could be at stake as well...? Things to ponder, to be conscious of...

_Severus!_ It was as if a light had been turned on. _I need Severus... Severus could teach the boy to close his mind...if he could be willing...for Lily Pot-no. For Lily _Evans's _sake. To protect her son... he promised..._

Dumbledore sat back in his chair, and he couldn't help but smile. Placing his teacup delicately on the desk, he placed into the Pensieve a memory, one of his most favourite to contemplate: Severus Snape's turning point. Albus sank away into the presence of the past:

"_What-what do you mean?" The terrible pain and remorse in Severus' voice had overwhelmed Albus at that moment, but he had pushed forward with his request._

"_You know how and why she died. Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily's son."_

"_He does not need protection. The Dark Lord has gone—" Dumbledore had seen great regret and hatred in him for the boy, even then: regret that James had been Lily's love, and not him; hatred that Harry had been the cause of the death of the woman Severus had loved so much...one of the only people Severus had ever loved._

"—_the Dark Lord will return, and Harry Potter will be in terrible danger when he does."_

_Snape measured these words for a long time before he spoke, reigning in his emotions. And when he had spoken, though the pain had still been evident, there had also been determination and recognition...the after-effects of guilt and sadness, in Severus' case. _

"_Very well. Very well. But never – never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us! Swear it! I cannot bear...especially Potter's son...I want your word!" Alas, what love can do...and what childhood hatred and anger can do, as well._

"_My word, Severus, that I shall never reveal the best of you?" How much use Severus Snape would be to the Order of the Phoenix when his trustworthiness did prevail...and how much it had distressed Albus to use him so, when his love for Lily Potter, Lily _Evans_, was so unconditionally pure. _

"_If you insist," he had said._

The image dissolved and Dumbledore fell back into the same seat in which he had just witnessed his younger self seated in.

_If Severus will help...but he must! He will help... Legilimensy, Occlumency – he is very accomplished..._

Dumbledore knew the means and ways of his past decisions; he hoped this would turn out to be a good one. _Harry, Harry... life has been so very unfair to you, and you have been forced to grow up with no comfort..._ How Albus hoped to alleviate some of Harry's discomfort, how he wished he had had no discomfort from the start...

With many beliefs and hopes near the top of his mind, Albus Dumbledore gave one last sigh (he seemed to be doing that a lot recently...). He pulled quill and parchment from his desk, and sat to compose a letter:

_Dear Severus..._

**A/N: Thanks to my reviewers and also to those who put me on their favourites and alerts: it's great to know people are interested in my story! So I continue to throw updates out! :P I may have even more to updates to throw, though I'm not sure if they will continue to be thrown so quickly. Tell me what you think: reviews are greatly appreciated, whether signed or anonymous. Thanks for reading! :)**


	5. Complicated

**A/N: Wow sorry for lack of updating - I was sick and dancing for a week and then I just forgot about updating! I know: excuses, excuses! Anyhoo, enjoy this chapter, from Snape's perspective!**

Severus Snape lurked in the dark cellar of his residence at Spinner's End, anger present in every pore. He paced back and forth, clutching a letter from Albus Dumbledore in his closed fist so that it crumpled every time he moved. Once again, everything had to be about Potter.

_Potter._

He was so very furious –_furious – _at Dumbledore. So much so that the only thought that made sense in his mind at the moment was Potter's name hissed venomously and repeatedly – he hadn't even noticed when these thoughts became spoken, then shouted aloud. Such was his tirade that he scared away all the crows that had settled on his porch and outside his windows.

He had only gotten past the first few sentences in Dumbledore's letter, only gotten past the part explaining that he had the _opportunity_ to protect Potter even more from harm, from _bloody Lord Voldemort!_ Wasn't he, Severus Snape, supposed to be spying on Voldemort and the Death Eaters? And wouldn't it just be even more dangerous and risky to add yet _more _thoughts of being in the Order of the Phoenix in his head? Why was it always about Potter? Did Severus' own wellbeing and talents and work account for _nothing? _And Dumbledore had the absolute _gall _to even _attempt_ to bring Lily Evans into this...

"_Please, Severus, help me continue to protect Lily Evans' son. You loved her, like she loved Harry."_

_I loved her, yes_... thought Severus, _but she never did love me. So why does it matter? She's dead! She's dead..._

Severus Snape had not cried in years, never since that day when he had gone to Dumbledore, seeking the good side. And he wasn't about to break that vow of silencing his emotion. Not with Voldemort so near, so close to punishing all the time...

The potions master shook his head quickly to douse the sudden burst of emotion. Just _thinking_ about having to give even an extra _minute_ of lessons to Potter made his insides boil with hatred. He peered down warily at the rest of the letter, explaining meaningless times and dates and meetings, and recoiled.

_I can't stand it,_ his subconscious began. _I can't stand to look at the reflection of the man I hated so much, and the woman I loved, and the product of..._it_._

This brought on other thoughts, of a loathing of a different kind.

_Potter!_

James Potter had been his absolute enemy, an arrogant scoundrel of a prat, with nothing better to do with his time than pester innocent bystanders, and torment people with more _intelligent_ interests, unlike those very _minor_ and _meaningless_ talents of his on the Quidditch pitch. Swollen minds and popularity contests meant nothing to Severus...not anymore. Not since Lily.

Lily, with her smile and her eyes... Lily, so kind and beautiful... Lily, laughing with him, with her friend Severus Snape... Lily, marrying Potter... Lily and Potter, so _bloody happy_ with their lives... Lily...dead.

It was an ache Severus felt when he looked at Harry Potter, an ache for Lily, the woman he loved, the only person he had ever loved. And, also, a searing hatred and hurt toward the man who stole her away, to create this...this..._child_.

_That's all Harry Potter is – a child. That's all he'll ever be to me. _

But, alas, Severus' emotions betrayed his thoughts – he both abhorred, and harboured a soft spot for Harry Potter. And neither side must show in their fullest extent, especially the latter. Actually, he would never show the latter at all.

_If only my Lily and that Potter had never known each other... and then Harry Potter would merely be another child and I wouldn't be forced to care one way or the other who he was, Boy-Who-Lived or otherwise._

Feelings aside, Severus knew he had to accept Dumbledore's proposition. He had long ago chosen to avenge Lily Evans' death, to convert himself to the Order, and if by teaching Occlumency to her son was the way to do this, so be it.

Snape forced himself to write a stiff reply to Dumbledore, relaying strict conditions to his teaching Potter – the usual: no disrespect; following Severus' timetable; not adhering to special circumstances Potter may have; by Professor Snape's own rules. If this was how Dumbledore wanted to play it...Snape could play this way, too.

Sensing his old disposition returning, Severus let his usual smirk creep onto his face.

_So be it._

**A/N: I just love Snape. I don't really know why. I know he doesn't particularly like Harry in any way, but I always thought he kind of had a soft spot for him because of Lily, even though he acted so hostile toward Harry. :P**

**Thanks for reading! PLEASE REVIEW! I will reply to them! Unless they're anonymous, but I still love those, too! By the way, thanks to the anonymous reviewers! Not sure when I'll update next - I don't feel I'm completely done with this story yet, though, so don't lose hope!**


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